


Only in My Dreams

by no_loose_wire_jokes



Series: Force Bond-verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Dreamsharing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, No Shower Sex, Post TLJ, Shared Dreams, Showers, They Wash Each Others Hair, canonverse, it's really cute, pre-tros, sorry lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_loose_wire_jokes/pseuds/no_loose_wire_jokes
Summary: He didn’t sleep often, but whenever he did, he was always plagued by dreams.This one was pleasant though.He was in the shower, hot water cascading over his head and down his back. He ran his hands through his hair, surrendering to the soothing feel of the water vapor enveloping his body.But then he felt a tell-tale shiver run down his spine.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Force Bond-verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779391
Comments: 25
Kudos: 240





	Only in My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Everyone, 
> 
> Okay, I'm not gonna lie, this is a oneshot inspired by the last five minutes of Leia's Podcast from The Farce Awakens on YouTube... (if you wanna watch it, heres the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gxj08UOWtK8 ) 
> 
> I know they are in the shower, but sadly, there is no smut. I rated it mature because they are naked but there is only a little bit of description so it's still pretty PG. 
> 
> Once again, I'm very new at this whole writing thing so any feedback in the comments or any kudos is very appreciated!
> 
> Thank you, love, Deela :)

He didn’t sleep often, but whenever he did, he was always plagued by dreams. Some good ones, some where he woke in a clammy sweat, and some where he would jackknife, his spine ramrod straight with a barely contained scream stuck in his throat. 

This one was pleasant though. 

He was in the shower, hot water cascading over his head and down his back. He ran his hands through his hair, surrendering to the soothing feel of the water vapour enveloping his body. 

This was one of the more calming dreams he’s had in awhile. Recently he hasn’t been able to evict nightmares of Snoke, or his new title, or Han from his head. Each of them providing him with sleepless hours of staring at the ceiling through the night and tremors of anxiety during the day. It’s part of the reason why he had his helmet reassembled. The dark circles under his eyes and the hallowing of his cheeks a dead giveaway about his sleep schedule and he didn’t need Hux any farther up his ass than he already was; whether it was talks of finances or how sleep deprivation leads to irresponsible decisions, he didn’t need any of it. 

But the water was much less aggravating than Hux and much less depressing than the dreams he’s become used to having. Dreams filled with white, flowing robes, small calloused hands, and an expanse of tan freckles over a button nose. Dreams where her graceful movements would protect them both from any fate. Merciful ones where he’d be slain by her hand and her saber, blue piercing his chest as a tear and a smile grace his face. And then there were the ones where he’d weep upon waking; the ones where the crackling red of his saber would pierce through her chest instead. 

He’d let those tears fall down his face until he was summoned to the bridge. His red-rimmed eyes hidden by the fresh red cracks of his mask. 

But he knew his face wouldn’t be tear-stricken upon waking in the morning. He’d wake up refreshed, the water bearing down on him now enough to wash away the shadows of his mind. At least for tonight, anyway. 

But perhaps the Force wasn’t so merciful. Sound suddenly drained from his ears and a tell-tale shiver ran down his spine. The vapour surrounding him seemingly thickened and in an instant there was another presence behind him. 

He was suddenly extremely aware of his nakedness but this was a dream, was it not? Nobody would give a damn if he was naked, right? But the gasp that softly left her lips once he turned had him doubting that completely. To his surprise, his mind has conjured her naked as well. Her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes wide but not afraid, and her arms set confidently by her sides. He couldn’t help the slow drag his eyes made from her head to her toes, taking in every detail as if this was the last time he’d ever see her in his dreams. It wasn’t, that was for sure, but then again, everything about her stood out to him almost as if she were a statue in the main square of Hanna City. Each curve of her body a work of art. The set of her shoulders, the perkiness of her breasts, the still-too-sharpness of her ribs, the gentle feminine flare of her hips. He found himself enraptured by every aspect of her body but his gaze eventually settled on her eyes. 

Her stare darted from place to place along his body aswell, from his chest to his abdomen to his privates, where they hesitated, before continuing down his legs and slowly dragging back up to meet his eyes. Her deep, hazel orbs were no longer wide, but hooded, and her pupils were blown and black. She put her hands on her hips before laughing and stepping past him into the spray of scalding water. 

“The Force has a twisted sense of humour doesn’t it?” She sighs as her hands slowly push through her hair, soaking each strand as they go. 

“It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?” He responds smoothly, leaning back against the wall of the ‘fresher as he crosses his arms against his chest.

She hums in response and closes her eyes, tilting her head upwards and exposing the regal column of her throat, stretching her arms to the ceiling. He should avert his eyes, turn away, give her a minute to enjoy the warmth of the water without his prying eyes, but this is dream Rey, and dream Rey won’t mind if he stares, will she. 

She finishes her little stretch with a flourish of her wrists and she opens her eyes, finally observing her surroundings. She looks at the empty shelves behind her, and apparently unsatisfied, she tries, unsuccessfully, to peak around him. 

“Where do you keep all your fancy shampoos?” She asks trying again to look past him, “I know they’re in here somewhere with your hair being so perfect all the time.” 

His eyebrows raise on his forehead, surprised by the blunt honesty of her comment. He pushes himself off the wall and turns to look behind himself. “Why would I have ‘fancy shampoos’, Rey? This is only a-” 

“Yeah, those,” she says her eyes landing on the desired product and her hands opening and closing in a blatant  _ pass me the bottles _ motion. 

With a confusion that he knows is undeniably etched on his face, he grabs the one labelled shampoo but stops himself before handing it to her. She shoots him a questioning look but he ignores it in favor of squeezing a generous glob of the solution into his palm. 

“Turn around,” he commands gently.

She raises one brow but says nothing in response, just turning her back to him and eyeing him over her shoulder. He fails to avert his eyes from her perfect backside for a second before he quickly takes a small step towards her. He’s glad she’s turned around, least she see the colour he knows is rising in his cheeks. 

He slathers the soap on both of his hands before gently massaging it into her scalp, bubbles quickly forming, washing with each stroke of his fingers. She visibly melts in his grasp, each touch of his fingertips relaxing the tension in her bones. She hums again and her arms come around herself in a hug. 

When he’s finished, he softly grabs her shoulders and directs her towards the spray, using his hands to rinse the last of the suds out of her hair. He turns back around to find the bottle of conditioner and after placing another generous amount in his hand he turns to find her facing him again. Instead of making her turn back around, he reaches up and repeats the same process as before, massaging the gloop into her scalp as he looks down at her face. Their height difference is staggering for a moment but he quickly regains his composure. Again she sighs and hums, her eyes closing as a look of bliss appears of her face. He’s enraptured by her angelic features as his fingers work through her hair, pulling gently to ensure each strand of her beautiful hair is well nourished. 

“You know, no one’s ever treated me like this before.” She mentions out of the blue. 

His reply is instantaneous but his hands never stop moving. “I would do it all the time if you were here.” 

Her eyes stay shut but there’s a sound of sadness in her voice as she says, “Or if you were here.” 

Another strange comment, but all dreams are strange. 

Once he finishes, he rises the conditioner out too, her hair soft as he threads it through his fingers. 

Her eyes open suddenly and her lips curl into a smile. “Your turn.” 

She grabs his shoulders and swaps their place, his head once again under the stream. She wastes no time in getting the same sweetly-scented shampoo lathered into his hair. Her hands gently but effectively massaging his head. 

Her fingers feel like heaven against his scalp. Each brush and push of her fingertips stripping away all his worries. She engulfs him completely, all his senses devoted to her. The scent of her freshly washed hair, the feel of her tenderness, the sight of her beauty. Every part of him completely encompassed by her. His dreams don’t fail to convey the power she has over him. He would bow on his knees till they bled for her, burn the entire galaxy to the ground if she so wished, but her kindness would never sanction such destruction. He would do anything for her, and the funniest part was that real Rey had no idea. 

And it hurts to think that real Rey would never feel the same. 

Apparently dream Rey has finished washing his hair. His eyes open slowly to find her gazing at him—her eyes soft and understanding and her hands cupping his jaw. He brings his hands to her wrists and clutches them like a lifeline while dropping his forehead to hers. The warmth of her skin is unbelievable, the heat from her soul warming his from the inside out. She’s his light, his anchor, his balance.

All of these things are terrifying to admit. 

Her left thumb grazes his scar, then brushes over it again and again. Her hands venture, tracing the seem his scar all the way from his eyebrow—tantalizingly, slowly—to where it hooks just above his pectoral. 

“I’m not going to apologize for this one,” she murmurs, mirth lining her tone. 

“I would never want you to,” he responds, his tone serious but his lips quirked upwards. 

She nods and her hands move farther down his chest, her right one brushing over the bow-castor woundjust above his hip. Her fingers trace the puckered ridges and grooves of regenerated skin before her palm settles flat over top of it. Her other busy hand travels down his arm. 

“You have a lot of scars.” She observes before sliding around him again. 

“I do.”

“Will you tell me about them?” She asks. 

“Rey, I’d tell you anything you asked.” He responds honestly. 

Her open palms skin over his back, pausing here and there to ask about the scars littered there. 

Her finger traces one that runs from his shoulder blade to his spine in a straight, diagonal line. “What’s this one from?” 

“A vibro-blade. It’s a weapon favoured by one of my knights. We train together.” 

She finds another, more ragged one down over his right hip bone. “And this one?” 

“I was bit by an anooba on Lola Sayu. I was trapped by a pack of them and one attacked my side as I tried to fend off the others.”

“Ouch,” she whispers.

“Yes.” 

She hesitates, her hands pausing. He can feel her thinking. “Do you miss your mother?” 

“Yes.” No point in lying.

An even longer hesitation. “Do you miss me?” 

At this he pauses. Does he miss her?  _ Does he miss her?  _ Every second she’s not around he feels as though he’s missing his heart, almost as if she took it and ran leaving a gaping hole in his chest. Dream Rey should know this.

He turns around to look her dead in the eyes. Dream or no dream, the validity of this confession cannot be understated. “Of course I do. Terribly.”

Her lip quivers, “So why don’t you come back? Why don’t you come to me?” She holds his shoulders and squeezes with each question.

“Because I’m the only thing standing between Hux and the decimation of the Resistance.” He grabs her elbows in his hands and squeezes back. “If I wasn’t in his way, he would’ve already destroyed you, and I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.”

He lets his head sink. Everyone he’d ever loved in his life had either denounce him or abandoned him. If she left too, never to come back, he wouldn’t be able to recover. He’d crave death just so he could bow on his knees at her feet again in the afterlife. 

He barely registers the way his shoulders are heaving until she lifts his chin with one finger and wipes his tears with her thumbs. Her eyes are deep pools of hazel and understanding. “You’ll always have me.” She whispers.

She pulls his head down until their foreheads are pressed together again. They stand there for a long moment, clutching each other as the hot spray of water continues to thicken the vapour around them. After a while, she leaves a delicate kiss on the bridge of his nose before giggling gently. 

“What?” He asks in a chuff. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she says before kissing his nose again slightly lower, right on the tip. She does it again, and again, changing her angle ever so slightly each time so as to find a new spot with each kiss. He lets her because what else is he supposed to do? Stop her? That’s certainly not an option. 

She giggles again once she’s kissed his nose to her heart‘s content and he joins in because, hell, this has got to be the most ridiculous but wonderful dream he’s had in awhile. 

Then she says something that makes his eyes snap open and his brain grind to a halt. 

“Why do you only ever laugh in my dreams?” 

His shakes his head as he huffs out a laugh. “Rey, don’t be ridiculous. This is my dream.”

Her eyes widen. “Ben, I could swear that this is, this is  _ my _ dream.” 

Suddenly, the strange, kind of out of place comments make sense now. The echo of their voices, the way they sound as if they’re in their own, sound-vacuumed bubble. The shiver that ran down his spine. It all makes sense at a dizzying rate and he can begin to sense her rising panic as she can most certainly sense his.

He could see a blush rising on her cheeks and he already knew that his ears were the same colour as a millaflower. 

Her embarrassment quickly morphed into anger. “In the name of R’ira’s hOLY HANDS-“ 

And with that, she disappeared. The vacuum drained and normal sound returned. All in an instant, the steam evaporated and the shower head disappeared and in a flash, he awoke in his bed. His lungs gasped for breath as he once again jack-knifed into a sitting position. 

The most alarming thing about that dream, was that upon waking up, his hair was soaked to the bone—smelling fresh of shampoo—and his bare chest glistened with droplets of water. 

“That wasn’t a dream.” He whispered in disbelief.

And somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, Rey held a pillow to her face while screaming, “ _ I can’t believe that wasn’t a dream! _ ” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments or kudos is much appreciated!
> 
> Find me on Twitter! (@/bendemptionist)


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